


Untangle

by roselightsaber



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 05:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9369104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roselightsaber/pseuds/roselightsaber
Summary: Fluffsmut and little else for when Baze needs a little undoing.





	

“Look at you…” Whispered. Barely above a breath. Just as it should be. “Taking it so well. So beautifully, my love.”

  
“ _You_ – this is only for you.”

  
“Taking _me_ so well,” Chirrut corrects, all soft smiles and gentle touches despite the completely debauched looks of his partner, his husband, beneath him. If the distinction is important to Baze, and it seems that it is, then it’s important to him too. “Just for me, my Baze. Do you feel good?” That, after all, is the most important thing, the thing he promised him – _I’ll make you feel so good, love. I’ll make you feel like you’re all mine, all over again, like the first time_.

  
Baze just nods, wordless, trying to catch his breath. It’s beautiful, Chirrut thinks, seeing him vulnerable like this. He took his time to get him comfortable with being so, after all, hands and mouth working to make his lover’s body demand what the rest of him had already shyly asked for. Baze was dominant by necessity in most of their life (and what a gift it was to share that life). Jedha was dangerous. He was tall and strong and imposing, and not above threatening anyone who dared cross them, or who might harm their precious home, and he took charge where he felt it necessary (damn near everywhere, even if Chirrut thought himself perfectly capable). But Baze in private was a deeply different creature – and yet, Chirrut thinks with a silly, giddy smile – exactly the same somehow, too. A caretaker, through and through. Such efforts, then, he reasons, should be rewarded with some time off from having to take control.

  
But Baze never asks for anything specific. He hardly asks for anything at all – Chirrut almost always initiates, and when Baze does, it’s with the touch of a broad, rough hand, or a kiss at a particularly sensitive spot, not with words. It’s beautiful in its own way, of course; they know each other so well, after years and years of being in love, and neither really needs to ask for anything in particular. It just arrives, a miracle of the Force, to Chirrut, or, for Baze, the harvest from years of sowing seeds of understanding and relying on each other’s intuition. And, of course, there’s simple experience – being each other’s first, only, and last, over so many years, from floundering, awkward touches to knowing each other inside and out – that neither of them would deny.

  
It’s not just that he asked to be made a little vulnerable that gets to Chirrut either, but how: with as few words as possible, nervously, breathlessly, between kisses. Moments like that make Chirrut fall in love with him all over again, when they can laugh softly at each other and themselves as they stumble, hand in hand, towards something new together. It’s often adventure, danger, chaos, but the chance for it to be love and affection is more than welcome. It’s not as though such a thing has never crossed Chirrut’s mind, but it’s never felt like a need, and both Baze and he are more concerned with fulfilling those visceral feelings for each other than experimenting for its own sake. But it’s fun when it happens – and so here they are, Baze’s legs wrapped around Chirrut’s strong, slim form, face to face, taking it slow as if it’s their first time all over again.

  
“Tell me,” he pries, gently, with a hand running up Baze’s abdomen, feeling for tension and discomfort but also simply admiring. “Tell me how it feels for you.”

  
“Don’t you know?” He laughs faintly, grasping at that hand tightly. “I’ve seen you beg for me like this more times than I can count.”

  
“Now is hardly the time,” he chides, drawing _too_ slowly back before thrusting back into him. “To accuse me of begging.”

  
The feeling of desperation that bursts through Baze’s consciousness is like nothing Chirrut has ever felt from him before. Somehow, though, he holds back even the slightest sound – that’s a habit Chirrut has little patience for, one that he’s fussed at him for countless times no matter what position they’re in.

  
“Hey.” He pulls all the way out again, rubbing the head of his cock against Baze’s opening. “You wanted to be like this, so I want to hear you _wanting it_.”

  
“Don’t say such filthy things.” He laughs, but Chirrut can feel him pressing back against him, searching for that hot, full sensation again.

  
“You didn’t just want me inside you,” he points out, just barely pushing into him again. “You said you wanted me to _take you_.”

  
His face goes red. Chirrut can’t see, but he can feel him flush, and places a palm against his cheek just to be sure. “I know what I said.”

  
He barely inches inside him, moving so slow that he finally, _finally_ wrenches a little sound of complaint from the other. “Tell me what you said.”

  
“Don’t you ever listen the first time?”

  
“No,” he chuckles. “I don’t, but that’s not the point. I like hearing it.”

  
“I said–” Another little groan and Chirrut starts to wonder if it’s not a good thing that his lover is usually so quiet; hearing him like this threatens to end things too quickly. “I want you to take me and – and make me all yours,” He laughs softly again, still the best sound to Chirrut’s ears, all things considered, and rests his hands on Chirrut’s waist the same secure way he does when he rides him. “But I’m already all yours.”

  
“I know, my sweet, foolish husband.” He kisses his forehead as he sheaths himself fully inside him again, biting his lower lip at the tight heat. “You like hearing me, don’t you?”

  
“Love it.” He closes his eyes; Chirrut can feel it, and feel his breathing change as the intense feeling of being penetrated overtakes him again. “Love _you_."

  
“Then you know,” he breathes, trying to steady himself for the sake of this fantasy fulfillment. Who knew his zama-shiwo training would prove so useful even in this situation? It was surprisingly challenging to be in control – he’d just as soon have them both completely collapse into each other, two beings driven by love and lust and and shared need. But if Baze wants this, he’s sure as hell going to give it his all, even if all he wants to do is render them both completely helpless to pleasure. He can still do that – he just has to take a different approach.

  
“I know.” Baze has gone all boneless and desperate again, clutching at Chirrut with hands and arms and legs, everything clinging, pushing, _wanting_.

  
Chirrut wants to tease a bit, to tell him he can’t know until he feels a cock as big as Baze’s inside him, but now probably isn’t the time, and in any case Baze is reacting as if he’s never felt anything better in his life, so it’s probably in both their best interests not to spoil it. Chirrut thrusts into him harder, hands moving to support his hips to get just a little deeper, to position just a little better so he can–-

  
“Oh. _Chirrut_.”

“Right there?” He doesn’t really have to ask, but he has to say something and that seems like the best choice. The perfect excuse, too, to whisper close to his ears, those perfect things Chirrut can never avoid pulling and pinching and touching no matter who is around. Now though, he nips gently at the left one, nibbling his way up between words. “You feel incredible, love. Just hearing you breathe is–h” He shivers, and it’s no act for Baze’s benefit; the other rushes his senses, takes over every part of his perception. “It’s heaven, having you like this.”

  
Baze locks both hands behind his neck and pulls him into a kiss, hungry and wanting. No words needed – just perfect understanding. As it should be. Chirrut thrusts faster, unable to wait any longer himself, and Baze lets out the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard as he hits just the right spot. Halfway between a moan and Chirrut’s name, it’s all they both wanted from this experience; vulnerability, devotion, pleasure. Chirrut can see it in him clearly, no vision needed, in the ripples of energy radiating off of him along with the heat of his skin –- is he himself, he wonders, this obviously enthralled with Baze most of the time? As if to answer, Baze puts a hand to his cheek, thumbing at his cheekbone.

  
“My Chirrut,” He murmurs. “So good to me.”

  
Baze comes with a shudder as Chirrut wraps his fingers around him, before he can even stroke him properly. It catches them both by surprise and the sound Baze makes, mostly muffled against Chirrut’s shoulder, is as much a startled laugh as it is a moan. His whole body seems to clutch more tightly around Chirrut, and that’s all it takes to send him over the edge after the other. He feels more than hears Baze’s faint gasp as he spills inside him, and the other hangs onto him even more tightly.

  
That grasp doesn’t let up, even as they slowly untangle from one another, stretching and sighing and settling again. “Do you feel good, love?” He’s not looking for reassurance of his skills or for any indication that anything physically was wrong –- he’s plenty sure they are, at least, both immensely pleased in that regard. It’s the things Baze doesn’t let slip so easily that he wants to confirm, the emotions he buries until they build up walls so high he can’t hold them up any more. And Baze knows it; he mumbles a quiet affirmative against Chirrut’s sternum, still clinging to him. There’s still some tension in his muscular form, Chirrut feels, things he still holds onto though his body is sated and some of that weight, at least, has been broken down. Another day, Chirrut thinks, they’d work on shaking the rest of it loose. Now he’ll let him hold onto him impossibly tightly, basking in the closeness they both enjoy but that Baze _needs_ , desperately sometimes. He runs his fingers through Baze’s hair, grown long lately. So many knots to undo, but Chirrut would enjoy working through each one.


End file.
